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“Open your mouth,” he orders, taking a step closer. With where I’m sitting, there is only one reason he wants me to open my mouth.
I’m directly in front of him.
Directly in front of my favorite part of him.
I do as he says, opening my mouth, and I swear as he lowers his sweats, drool collects on my lips.
There is something so sexy about this man.
He fists himself, and then when he’s hard and ready, he feeds me my dessert.
I can get used to waking up beside Matteo.
Yesterday morning, he was gone before I woke up. Today, I’m snuggled into his chest. My hair is fanning across his skin.
His soft breathing echoes through the room. It’s like a soft, calming fan. This is the first time since I’ve met Matteo that I’ve seen him so peaceful. Normally, even when he’s laughing, there’s a sense that he’s holding something back. His jaw is still tight. Or sometimes his eyes don’t match his smile. But right here as he quietly snores, he truly looks at peace.
He looks younger.
Without the small wrinkles that line his eyes and the tiny line that forms when he frowns, he looks younger.
He’s a beautiful man. Complicated, though.
It’s so very hard to figure him out. Last night again, he was insatiable. Like no matter how many times he took me, it was never enough.
Over and over again, he ravished me as if when he stopped, I would disappear.
It’s a strange feeling to be wanted by a man like Matteo.
I could see how someone could get greedy from the way he looks, greedy for the way he touches, greedy for more of him.
It’s going to take everything inside me not to give in to it. Not to allow myself to fall into the trap.
Because that’s what it is.
It’s a trap.
How else can you describe it?
If I give my heart to him, I’ll get nothing in return. I’ll be stuck in the cage without a way out. But if I don’t . . . if I accept a loveless marriage, how is my life different from my mother’s?
He stirs in his sleep, and then his eyes start to open.
“How long have you been up?” he asks, his voice rough and gravelly.
“Only a minute or so.”
“Are you hungry?”
That makes me smile. He’s always concerned about my appetite. This time when he says it, I don’t think there’s any other meaning. I think he truly wants to feed me.
“I can always eat.”
“You wouldn’t be able to tell.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. You’re just tiny.”
“Or maybe you’re big.”
He laughs. “Touché.”
He lifts his hands to his face and rubs away the remaining sleep.
Then he’s standing from the bed with his naked body on full display. I’m surprised when he doesn’t attack me.
We have spent the past three days all over each other. He must notice my confusion because he leans down and kisses my lips.
“I see that look you’re giving me, Viviana. If you don’t stop, I will take you up on your silent offer. But I imagine you’re sore, and you might need a little bit of a rest.”
I pout.
“I’m not sore.”
His hand reaches out, pulls the blanket back, and then spreads my thighs.
The cold air feels heavenly against my heated skin.
He stares at me for a minute. A war rages inside him as he looks down at where I want him to touch me.
“Viviana, what am I going to do with you?”
“Fuck me,” I say, my upper teeth biting my lower lip.
“You will be the death of me,” he says as he moves closer to the bed, fingers parting me.
I grimace at the contact, and he laughs.
“I told you.”
“I’m fine,” I say like a petulant child who thought she was getting ice cream but was just told the store was closed.
“You’re not. But I know something that will make you feel better.”
I raise my eyebrow in question, and he answers by leaning in and swiping my sensitive skin with his tongue.
Yep.
That will work just fine.
27
Viviana
* * *
The next few days pass in bliss.
We don’t do much. We take walks in the snow, cook a lot of meals, and indulge in each other’s bodies in what must be every single room in the house.
It’s been the most perfect week.
I truly never thought Matteo could be this affectionate, nor did I think he would be willing to spend so much time with me.
Unfortunately, though, our alone time has come to an end.
Lorenzo, Roberto, and a few of his other men are due back within the hour. Matteo is downstairs in the basement working out, and I’m in our room showering and getting ready for the day.
I hate that it has to end, but I know it’s necessary.
We cannot live in a bubble forever.
Regardless of how fun that bubble is.
Because bubbles, I’ve learned, are fragile, thin things. Designed to burst and explode.
